


For What Ails You

by TheStrange_One



Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [5]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Fidgeting, M/M, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Snowball Fights, snowballs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStrange_One/pseuds/TheStrange_One
Summary: Wade is worried that his skills are going to get rusty. Spider-Man proposes a (non-lethal) idea.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: 12 Days of Christmas 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054064
Comments: 13
Kudos: 79





	For What Ails You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beazlerat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beazlerat/gifts).



Wade tried to keep his fidgets under control. He really did. He knew it was stupid, something that couldn't be helped.

That didn’t stop the itch under his skin. It didn’t stop the calculations that ran through his head at every stop, every mission. It didn’t stop the twitch in his fingers.

Spider-Man noticed. Of course he did; that sense he had that let him know he was in danger was probably going off nonstop around Wade. “Something wrong?” he asked, his head doing that adorable little tilt.

Only everything. “It’s nothing,” Wade grunted.

Spider-Man paused. “Deadpool,” he said after a moment, “we just stopped a mugger who was threatening someone while eating a chili dog and you didn’t even make a snide comment about it. In fact, I’m not sure you even _noticed_.”

Damn. And that would have been perfect for that “deep throat” joke he’d been trying to work into conversation for weeks now. “And?” he asked warily.

“And,” Spidey repeated, “I want to know what’s going on. Are you feeling down about something? Maybe I can help.”

Of course the web-crawler would offer to help. He tried to help everyone, even those, like Wade, who were beyond help. He wanted to make a snippy remark, but instead he just scowled through his mask at the snowy roof and grunted. “It’s stupid.”

Spider-Man didn’t leave. “I won’t know for sure it’s stupid, if you don’t tell me,” he pointed out.

Wade huffed a laugh. Of course he would say that. “It’s just—I feel like my skills are getting rusty. I know!” he added quickly. “I said I wouldn't kill anyone and I _haven’t_ , but part of me is just scared that I’ll forget how and if I need to I won’t be able to and everyone around me will get killed and I’ll just have to watch them _die_ and I don’t want to do that!” The words tumbled out of his mouth like a verbal waterfall he couldn't stop.

Wade wasn’t certain what reaction he expected from the masked vigilante. Perhaps the hero would think that Wade was whining just to be whining. Perhaps he’d think it was Wade’s way of trying to get the hero to agree that he needed to start killing again. Perhaps it was just the thing the other man needed to push him away for good.

He was _not_ , however, expecting the snowball to explode upon contact with his face. “What?” he demanded as turned to see Spidey, totally unrepentant and with snow dusted hands, lounging against the pigeon coup that they were sharing a roof with.

As Wade watched Spider-Man scooped up more snow and began to pack it into a ball. “The thing about snowballs,” he said as he worked, “is that each one is different. It’s scientifically impossible to make by hand two identical snowballs. Each ball will have it’s own weight, defects that catch the air, and it’s own trajectory. And that’s not even including things like visibility, wind speed, or altitude.”

Wade stared in shock for just a moment. “You think—you think I can keep my skills up with _snowball fights_?” he demanded.

Spider-Man tossed the snowball up and down for a moment. “Well, yeah. Unless you think you can’t do it.”

And that? That was a _challenge_. “Of course I can!” Wade promptly bent down to scoop up as much snow as he could, to make the biggest snowball he could. He held it over his head—and another snowball exploded in his face. He dropped his hands to wipe the snow away from his lenses and the bigger ball hit him in the head. “No fair!” he whined.

“I’m sorry,” said Spider-Babe, and Wade could hear the laughter in his voice. “Do you want a handicap?”

Wade was scandalized. Him? A handicap? No way! Not possible! “Oh, I’m gonna get ya good!” he announced.

Spider-Man laughed again, hopping to the ledge of the roof. “Gotta catch me first,” the hero said with a grin.

At first Wade loved the challenge. Fighting bad guys, trying to hit Spidey with a snowball when things were quiet—it was golden. It was great!

Until he realized that he just could. Not. Hit. That. Spider.

Seriously. How did the man dodge every single snowball? He didn’t even get grazed by accident!

Clearly Wade was going to have to up his snowball game.

Weasel stared at him in shock. “You want a what?” the bar owner, mercenary manager, and weapons specialist demanded.

“It’s not that hard,” Wade pouted as he downed another whiskey shot.

“Yeah, no,” said Weasel reaching over the bar and grabbing the bottle. “You’re being cut off. What you want is _impossible_.”

“It can’t be!” protested Wade. It had to exist! Or—or could he _make_ it exist? Could he make one? “Maybe I’ll just make one.”

Weasel snorted. “A grenade launcher that launches snowballs instead of grenades? Good luck with _that_.”

The grenade launcher didn’t _work_. Spidey dodged the snowballs with ease and laughter. “Dude,” he said, mask wrinkling in such a way that Wade was certain the hero was laughing at him. “Are you even trying?”

Okay, so launching snowballs with a grenade launcher wouldn't work. Despite the calculations that went into changing the settings, a good half of the time the ball would just launch as powder. (Powder that still didn’t hit the spider.) New tactic.

A few days after the failed snowball launcher episode found Wade, snowballs in insulated pockets on his suit, crawling through the ducts of the Avenger’s Tower. Under normal circumstances, he never would have investigated his fave super. And if he _had_ , he never would have let anyone know that he knew who Spider-Man was.

These weren’t normal circumstances. Wade had a war to win, even if certain little Spiders didn’t know it yet. He made his way to the vent over his spider’s lab.

“Kid, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” demanded the voice of the hero most likely to get turned into a stew pot.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Wade paused. He almost never heard that confidence full, satisfaction laden voice from Spidey. He quickly shifted to relieve pressure on a certain part of his body.

“He’s a trained assassin.”

“I know.”

“He’s never missed a target.”

“I know.”

“He’s left bloody paths across parts of the world that offended him.”

“I’m well aware of that Mr. Stark.”

Wade paused. He’d always thought that Spider-Man gave him a chance because he _didn’t_ know the bloody details of Wade’s past. Why else would the wall crawling hero give him time of day? That didn’t make sense.

Well, no time for it now. Wade had a competition to win. He pulled two of the snowballs into his hands and dropped from the ceiling with a yell as he threw them where he’d heard Spider-Man’s voice. He didn’t even look as he reloaded from his pouches and threw four more.

Silence. Wade looked around and spotted Spider-Man, in a lab coat, on the ceiling and safely out of the way of any snowballs. Wade shook his fist at the vigilante. “Curse you!” he said with mock severity. “Curse you and your uncanny snowball dodging powers.”

“Yup,” said a very annoyed voice. Wade turned to see that, while he’d missed Spider-Man, he’d gotten the Iron Can. The man brushed snow off his face. “FRIDAY?” he asked. “How did Deadpool get into the building.”

Oops. Couldn’t get caught. He waved a fist at Spider-Man. “Until next time!” he told the hero before jumping out the window.

A few days later found him trying to pack the snow into a ball the size of a bullet. Maybe if he got it just the right size, his sniper rifle could hit the target.

“So, does it count as a snow _ball_ when you pack it that tight?” asked a voice above him. Wade looked up to see that Spider-Man was standing over him, arms crossed over his chest.

Wade looked back down at the opaque shard of ice he’d created. “No,” he grumbled tossing it aside.

Wade had never been so happy to see the end of snow in his life. As the months got hotter he knew he couldn't get Peter with a snowball, but at least he didn’t have to deal with the indignity of getting hit with one himself. Seriously, how did the younger man _do_ that? It seemed _impossible_.

But at least he was free.

Or so he thought.

The A-Team (plus Wade) were on the ground having just finished dispatching yet _another_ alien invasion. At least they’d managed to keep the destruction zone outside of the city, although someone was doing a brisk business in updating the city maps as streets got destroyed and rebuilt.

Suddenly snow exploded on the side of Wade’s mask and he turned to see Peter, still in his suit, brushing rapidly melting snow off his hands. The heat of the day was making the liquid steam slightly. “No,” he said with horror.

“What’s that you always say when we’re watching TV?” asked Peter. He pushed his mask up so that Wade could see him grin. “’Expect the unexpected’?”

“No.” It wasn’t _possible_. It was just too hot! And it wasn’t like the Spider suit had pouches or pockets like Wade’s own Deadpool one did. Peter’s only reaction was to pull the mask down. “No, Spidey, how did you _do_ that?”

“Good job,” said Captain A as he walked over to them.

“Thanks,” said Peter.

Normally Wade would be preoccupied with the fact that one of his heroes was thanking him, but he was a little distracted at the moment. “How did you do it?”

Peter, the little shit, ignored him. “Always happy to help.”

“It’s got to be like eighty degrees out here!”

One of the suits clunked over to him. “Actually,” said Iron Man, “it’s ninety-two.”

“ _Spidey_. That’s way too hot for snow. How?”

“Time to head back to the Tower.” Peter turned to him. “Need a lift, DP?” he asked.

Getting a ride from Spidey was one of his favorite things ever and he glomped onto Peter’s back without waiting for a further invitation. “But seriously, how?” he asked.

He never got an answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Five points that don't matter to anyone who spots the blink-and-you'll-miss-it Beauty and the Beast reference. :)


End file.
